


the things that hold them together

by soundofez



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Day 1: Tie, F/M, Light Bondage, SoMa NSFW Week, also lol this doesn't even have anything to do with ties really, i just kind of suck, i'm a day late crap i'm sorry, nor is the title really appropriate, this is what i get for being social ugh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:04:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundofez/pseuds/soundofez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair has the most ridiculous ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the things that hold them together

It's Maka's birthday tomorrow, and Soul is still trying to work out the finer details with Tsubaki when Blair waltzes in and knocks him out with a spell before he even realizes she's there.

He wakes up to Blair sprawled on _his_ bed with _his_ phone in her finely manicured hand, chatting animatedly with—

"—oh, he's awake! Bye, **Tsubaki-chan** ~ we'll continue this chat later, nya!" she purrs, and snaps his phone shut.

Soul closes his eyes and tries to count to ten, but Blair starts chattering at around four, so he gives up hoping that he's hallucinating and opens his eyes to make sure the damn cat doesn't start _molesting_ him or something.

It's at this point he realizes he's naked. "What the **fuck** —"

"Blair couldn't find a present for Maka-chan!" the cat chirps. "Then she thought— Maka-chan is coming of age! And Soul-kun is already 18, nya~ so Soul-kun gets to be Blair's present to Maka-chan."

He wants to facepalm but his hands are chained to his wheely desk chair. **Chained?** He can't even shift out of this nightmare. And Blair is still chattering cheerfully about how she finished setting things up for the party tomorrow with Tsubaki and the details are on his desk, and his junk is still out if not really about, and this whole situation is just **so uncool**.

"Next time you wake up, Maka will be kissing you," Blair finishes with a wink, and he barely has time to sputter before he's knocked out again.

* * *

"Maka-chaaaan~"

The cat is perched on the windowsill, washing her paw as she purrs this, and Maka is immediately wary.

"What is it, Blair?" she asks suspiciously. She sets the groceries down on the counter, rummages through a bag, starts putting the contents away into the fridge or the cabinets, wherever it is they may belong.

"I gotchu a present!"

"...Shouldn't you be redirecting them through Tsubaki?" Because even though the party tomorrow is supposed to be a surprise, Maka has known her friends long enough to know that Tsubaki is the one who arranges these things.

"Tsubaki knows, it's fine~ I left it in Soul-kun's room! We can go look now!"

"Can't it wait?"

"Nya, the sooner the **better**."

"If it's gonna spoil, it should be in the freezer."

"At least go see it before dinner," Blair insists.

Maka snorts in irritation. "Fine," she relents. "What is it, anyway?"

"Come see~" and she scampers cat-formed up the stairs.

Maka follows mostly because she's pretty sure Soul is there, too, and it's his turn to cook dinner. When the door to his room swings open, though, she's a lot less than pleased.

" **What the _fuck_.** " Maka doesn't often use profanities, but then again, Maka doesn't often find her Weapon _naked and unconscious_. (And, okay, _maybe_ he's rubbing off on her a bit. She's going to have to chop him for that later.) He's slumped seated on a chair, wrists clasped under silver handcuffs, and his junk is more exposed to her sight than ever before. She's caught glimpses— in earlier years of their partnership, before they'd grown accustomed to sharing a living space and a bathroom with a person of the opposite gender, and it still happens periodically when towels slip from slim boy-hips— but they're used to just ignoring it and moving on because accidents happen.

"Happy birthday!" Blair is perched on Soul's bed, still cat-formed.

"Blair. I might be missing something, but how is my Weapon a **present**?" He's technically already hers anyway, in a Weapon-to-Meister sort of way, so this is doubly stupid.

"He'll wake with a kiss," Blair tells her slyly. "Maybe even **more** ~"

" **No** ," Maka states flatly, glaring straight at the cat, steadily avoiding looking at Soul. "I reject your present. Wake him up already."

"Nyaa, but Maka has to! Blair can't just undo it," the cat whines. "Spells aren't easy to make, and even less easy to undo! Soul-kun might **starve** before I work out the counterspell!" She leaps out of the window to dodge the book that Maka launches at her. The book itself slaps against the edge of the windowsill. It's a music book snatched off Soul's shelf, so she retrieves it and shuts the window with a peeved _bang_.

Maka seethes with rage, but under that she frets. What if Blair is telling the truth and actually **can't** undo the stupid spell? Of all things to die of, she doubts Soul would rank _starvation_ very high on his (arbitrary) _coolness scale_. She can almost hear him complaining now.

But she can't just **kiss** him! Not on the lips. That's just wrong, because he's unconscious and that makes it nonconsensual, but also because it oversteps their tentative balance as Best Friends. Maybe a peck on the cheek will suffice? She tries to look at him and remembers that he's naked, so she grabs a sheet from his bed and drapes it over him. It looks like he has an overmassive barber's apron on. Laughing faintly at the image, she just leans forward and presses her lips to his forehead.

He doesn't stir. Maka makes a face at him. She is disappointed, of course, even if her racing heart begs to differ. She closes her eyes to focus on slowing it and her breathing, but then with a sudden jerk she finds herself in the Black Room.

It's deathly silent, she notices after a beat. This is unsettling mostly because Soul's soul is (in spite of reservations and less-than-pleasant past experience) essentially made of music, and to have even Little Ogre out of commission is intimidating. She worries with a pang that maybe Blair's spell has overdone itself. What if he's gone forever? But then she spots him slumped in a velvet chair, asleep here as he is outside, though thankfully dressed in the suit he always wears in his soul.

As she approaches, her mind tingles with the feeling of his call— purely spiritual, soul to soul, so that it doesn't actually make a sound but she can almost hear it nonetheless. It's a mix of notes and needs, _G-major-second-inversion-C_ and _Meister-Friend-Partner-Savior- **Maka**_. They are distinct but inseparable at the same time, and they flow together to a feeling that she can't pinpoint, can't describe, but is achingly familiar. It's what called her to the Black Room, she realizes. It draws her to him without her awareness, and it engulfs her mind the closer she gets, and before she knows it she is standing over him, forehead pressed to his and palms flat along his jaw. Her eyes rest on his closed lids, and she notices vaguely that his lashes are long and pale and _pretty_. Full of her Weapon's feeling, she doesn't even think twice before she kisses him.

It's the surprising softness of his lips that jolts her out of whatever trance she got caught in, and the next moments happen in complete silence:

She freezes. His eyes snap open. They lock on hers, red staring blankly into green. He processes the situation,

jerks, and their lips detach. She takes a single step back. He rises, pushing out of the chair with one arm and reaching for her with the other, and then

stumbles onto her. His legs don't work. He realizes that they are asleep, cloyed with Blair's spell. It feels strange for his legs to be so hindered, strange and discomforting and desperately anathema in his soul. Meanwhile, she has no stability on heels, so

they fall to the floor. It doesn't hurt, not when there is nothing to feel but the wavelengths cast by their souls. Their lips connect again, and suddenly everything  _clicks_. 

She falls again, but this time into her body. His lips are working against hers, and teeth catch on her lower lip, and tongue laps and soothes. She's sprawled over his lap, probably from when she fell into his soul, and the position is unbalanced and awkward because somehow her face is lower than his, so then she slips to the floor out of his reach, bringing the sheet mostly with her, and suddenly she's at eye level with his dick, which is straining pretty obviously against what's left of the fabric. She scrambles to her feet, because even with this epiphany humming through her veins she can't deal with anything that blatant, and rushes to kiss him again. Unfortunately, when she tries, his chair rolls away from her.

With a growl, she seizes the thing by its handles and shoves herself onto the chair, straddling him, knees digging into the seat, feet dangling in air, and then arches over him and seals her lips over his. Even though she's technically on top, he's more dominant; his tongue is invading her mouth, which is kind of gross but infinitely more exciting for reasons unknown and unpondered, at least for now, because he's somehow gotten access to her brain and shut down most of her higher functions. He bucks, and, yes, that is his cock pressing against her through her panties, and there goes the rest of her mind. Except she realizes that, nice as all of this is, she has no clue where to go from here.

" _Soul_ ," she murmurs against his lips. He groans in response, and nips at her lip. "Soul, mmrgh,  _hold on_ ,  **what are we even doing?** " **  
**

He makes for her lips again, but when he misses he shoves his face into her **neck** instead and oh, _wow_ , she didn't know that necks were so sensitive.

Still, she really wants to know how to proceed, because she's kind of hopeless with Soul as held down as he is. "Nnnn,  _Soul_ , I said  **wait** , we need to—" **  
**

" _Dunwanna!_ "

"—figure out how to  **unchain you** , you dork, come  _on_."

He makes a muffled sound expressing mixed feelings. She sympathizes: on one hand, she really doesn't want to move, but on the other hand, the coiling heat in her core is demanding something she doesn't know how to provide.

" _Soul_."

He nips one last time and transforms. His handle is caught in both cuffs still, and she tugs him free, only to have him transform again and sprawl over her. His eyes are glowing; night is falling and she didn't bother turning on the lights when she came in five seconds or minutes or **hours** ago, she can't bring herself to pay attention to the time right now because his chest is smooth under her hands, and his mouth is fastened over hers, and his hand is sliding up her leg and under her skirt, and his fingers toy with the edge of her panties for an instant, and then one glides into her, warm and long, and moves,  **crooks**  against her, and that's it, she's  **gone**.

* * *

The sight of his Meister coming is sight he has imagined countless times, but none of them can match up to the real thing. She's warm, pulsing and clenching around his finger, warm and wet and slick.

He shouldn't be imagining those now. In fact, it's better if he doesn't, because he's achingly hard and doesn't need much provocation.

Maka pants, chest heaving appealingly, and he slides his finger out of her because she's almost certainly super sensitive and touching her now would only hurt, but she whines and winds her arms around his torso and tugs. The action pulls him against her in just the right (or wrong) way to set him off, because suddenly his dick is dragging almost painfully but definitely pleasurably across her thigh, and he creams up her skirt.

She squeaks, but apparently can't muster the breath to speak. He's not in any better of a condition, so they just lie there on the floor trying to catch their breaths. He might be embarassed, but he's too pleased with their mutual discovery to even really care much. What was he going to do without a condom, anyway?

Her stomach complains, and Soul huffs a laugh. "Dinner?"

"Let's eat out," she agrees, and presses a kiss to his cheek.

 


End file.
